Keetje Kuipers

If I have any romantic notions left,please let me abandon them hereon the dashboard of your Subarubeside this container of gas stationpotato salad and bottle of sunscreen.Otherwise, my heart is a sugar packetwaiting to be shaken open by someother man’s hand. Let there be another townafter this one, a town with an improbable Westernname—Wisdom, Last Chance—where we can geta room and a six-pack, where the fireworksend early, say nine o’clock, before it’s reallygotten dark enough to see them because